Balcony
by Glorious Zero
Summary: Near the end of the Requiem, Lelouch contemplates his life, his death, and his witch.


Disclaimer: I don't own Code Geass. :/  
>Anyway, I tried to make the story a bit longer this time. Hope you like it.<p>

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><p>It was cold. It wasn't very surprising to Lelouch, as he was already used to the fact that his Emperor's outfit was barely a shield against any dramatic temperature changes.<p>

"Let alone a giant sword," his cold mind injected into his previous thoughts.

In the later stages of the Requiem, Lelouch found himself coming up to a particularly beautiful balcony in his Palace. One that overlooked the handsome Royal Gardens filled with wondrous colors, and, past that still, a majestic view of an orange sunrise just beyond the Palace wall. It was, without a doubt, a good place to think, he thought.

"If nothing else, it's a nice reprieve from that witch," he liked to say to himself. But, though he would never admit it, to himself or anyone else, he actually did find her constant teasing rather amusing- it kept him on his toes at least.

C.C.

"What a peculiar witch," Lelouch contemplated. And as he watch the red sun creep up the wall of the Palace, Lelouch began to think about their bizarre relationship. They were accomplices, no?

No. Lelouch, leaning against a large pillar on his balcony, started to realize their relationship had long since passed that of mere accomplices. But then what did that make it? She was the only women he had let get so close to him. For Nunnally's own sake, not even she was allowed to see the real him. The only time he could drop his mask, end his façade, was when she was with him.

"What a peculiar witch," he repeated, this time softer and with a faint smile, still staring at the dawn of what was sure to be a beautiful day.

She had been against the Requiem from the start, and she had let him know every day since it began, constantly teasing him about not being smart enough to formulate a plan which didn't involve self sacrifice. He wondered, maybe even hoped, that it was her way of telling him she wanted him to stay with her.

This thought made him smile. A true smile- quite a rare sight from Lelouch, The Demon King. Ever since the Requiem began, all his smiles had been false. They portrayed one of his many masks, that of a power-hungry tyrant much like the one he had tried to repress.

The thoughts of the witch (_his_ witch?) had led him, regrettably, back to the Requiem. And as the sun finally leaped from the white Palace walls into the sky, Lelouch thought of death.

He thought of those he had killed in his short eighteen years, and of those killed in the idiotic "Battle for Damocles" just a couple months ago. But most of all Lelouch thought of his own death. He wondered if it would hurt. He had asked C.C. this question countless times but she never answered him.

He remembered cutting himself accidentally on a knife while cooking at Ashford Academy. A wound which he had thought, not having dealt with such things before, was severe. Then he imaged a blade five times that size piercing his chest.

"Shit," he said aloud, albeit softly. It was going to hurt.

Trying to press the matter out of his mind, Lelouch glanced back at the sun, which was much taller in the sky but still just a beautiful. He noted that he had never stayed on his balcony for quite this long before delving back into his thoughts.

Still yet trying not to think of the pain, he began to wonder if his plan was as foolproof as he had first thought. Would it even work? All of his theories were based on his short eighteen-year experience with the world. But then again, how many times had his theories been wrong before?

No, it would work. His plan would succeed. That thought brought an even larger weight down on him. He really was going to die. Lelouch couldn't use his geass to release himself from this personal prison he had made for himself.

It was on this melancholy note that Lelouch, who had been sitting leaned against a pillar on his balcony, fell asleep.

He awoke to the sun, which at this point had fell from its height of glory for the day and was setting, shinning wearily upon his face. The sudden adjustment of lighting made Lelouch's eyes hurt, so he decided to get up. A momentary pain in his back made him wonder why he hadn't instead used the decorative chair placed nearby for his nap, but he brushed the thought from his mind. He pulled the chair closer to the ledge of the balcony, and sat, watching the sun, dark red ("_almost blood,_" he thought) and setting ("_almost dying"_).

And in that moment, more than any other moment in his life, he was scared. The waning sun served as a dreadful reminder of what was to come in a few short days. He was only eighteen after all. Why is it that everything depended on _him_? It wasn't fair.

Lelouch, Zero, Demon King, Brother, Hero, Villain, Savoir, Monster, began to cry.

Silently, almost vacantly, he let two tears stain his cheeks as they raced to his chin. Tears still on his face, he smiled faintly. Since the death of his mother, Lelouch had only cried four times in his life. Each time for the life of someone he loved. And now, here he was, crying by himself, for himself- no, for sheer uncertainty of what was to come. No matter how many countless theories about death he could make, there was an unmistakable ambiguity about the subject. There was only one way to find out.

Lelouch didn't want to have to find out.

"What am I turning into?" Lelouch asked to no one in particular.

Suddenly he could hear footsteps. He knew who's they were before she spoke.

"There you are," a monotonous and annoyed, yet relieved, voice called. "Have you been here all day?"

Lelouch elicited no response, his back still facing her, and his head watching the side of the wall where the sun had set very carefully, as if expecting it to leap back up and shine once more.

"Everyone has been looking for you. Now that you're the Emperor, you can't very well just 'take a day off.'"

At this, Lelouch spoke, sadly and softly.

"They can live without the Demon King for a day," he said. And as he called himself the 'Demon King' yet another silent tear slid down his face.

It would look back if C.C. caught him crying, Lelouch thought, so he still didn't face her.

However, C.C. knew Lelouch enough by this time to see his distress, even if only his back was visible. She knelt down behind the chair and embraced Lelouch's back. He quickly wiped away his tears, fearful that his companion might see his rare weakness.

C.C., her cheek pressed against his back, spoke.

"Why is it that I'm always doing this for you?" with a sigh and a low chuckle he answered.

"Pathetic, isn't it?"

At this C.C. smiled: "No, it's actually kind of nice."

The two sat there in the ever-darkening night until Lelouch broke the silence.

"There really is no way to get out of this one, C.C. I've thought and thought about it. At this point, this is the only way it can end." C.C. nodded, her head still against his back.

"If that's true, then there's no use agonizing over it. Come inside, it's too cold out here." As she said this, C.C. stood. Lelouch did not do the same.

"I am so sorry C.C.," he said, staring down at his feet, not able to face her. "With this sacrifice, the only person I can't help is you."

C.C.'s mouth opened, but no words came out. This made Lelouch feel even worse. C.C. had never been speechless before. He closed his eyes tight. But then C.C. spoke.

"Didn't I already tell you to stop complaining about things you can't change? You Emperors really are dense, aren't you?" Still there was no response from Lelouch. "Oh, come inside _Lulu_," she said with a smirk. The use of the pet name he hated so much brought out yet another chuckle, and he stood. C.C. had won.

He turned around to see C.C.'s outstretched hand. He reached for it and held it, rather delicately, as if the moment they were sharing could be broken like an expensive piece of china. She tried to pull him back into the Palace, but he wouldn't budge.

"C.C.-" he began, but was cut off.

"Lelouch, it'll look bad for the Demon King to catch a cold, especially with the Requiem ending in a few days. And I swear, if I-" she was cut off as well. This time, however, with a gentle embrace, a soft smile, and a kiss. C.C. instantly returned the gesture.

And there, on a cold night, on a balcony in the Royal Palace, the Witch and the Warlock smiled as one.

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Lelouch never returned to that balcony. Never watched the sun ascend from his perch, never smelled the rising scent of the garden lift to him, never sat and thought about what was to come.

No. Hadn't he thought enough, Lelouch figured, for a lifetime?

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><p>There it is! Hope you liked it! It was inspired by this excellent picture:<p>

ht tp: / br owse. devia ntart.c om/?q =Lelou ch&orde r=9 &offset =192#/ d1pwz45  
>So props to KoujiAlone and I guess a picture's actually worth about 1,545 words. Imagine that.<p>

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